Reexamining Classic Films as Domestic Horror in Scream With Me

 Scream With Me: Horror Films and the Rise of American Feminism (1968-1980) 

by Eleanor Johnson

Scream With Me book cover

Author and Professor Eleanor Johnson

Huge thanks to Atria Books and NetGalley for sending me an advanced copy of Eleanor Johnson’s excellent and timely new book Scream With Me: Horror Films and the Rise of American Feminism (1968-1980). I was so excited to receive a copy for review because I love horror movies and examining how they reflect and critique issues in society. Furthermore, to learn that Dr. Johnson was going to analyze how our post-Dobbs world reflects the horrors of women in classic horror films like Rosemary’s Baby, The Exorcist, The Stepford Wives, Alien, The Omen, and The Shining was intriguing to me. This book did not let me down either. In fact, Dr. Johnson’s analysis of these films and contextualizing them within the fight for women’s rights and equality helps to identify the ways in which we are gradually (or maybe not so gradually) regressing in the fight for women’s rights. If anything, Dr. Johnson provides a unique and timely examination of these films that feels fresh and necessary. It allowed me to reexamine these films that were a staple of my earliest experiences with horror and pointed to new directions in horror films with some analysis of more recent films.

Johnson provides some context for the book in her introduction where she explains that she was teaching Rosemary’s Baby in 2022, around the time of the Dobbs decision. Her lecture led to further questions about horror films in the 1970s, asking whether Rosemary’s Baby was “the only horror film so clearly tied to the battle for women’s reproductive rights in the 1960s or 1970s?” She then identified six films that shared “a gut-twisting awareness of women’s vulnerability to physical, reproductive, and psychological torture in their own homes,” which Johnson identifies as “Domestic Horror”, a kind of sub-genre that typically restricts its action to a confined place, has a male antagonist, inflicts horror on the female protagonist, with specific emphasis on her children, reproduction, or sex, and includes an element of physical violence. What I found particularly fascinating about Johnson’s analysis was her emphasis on connecting these films to elements of social and/or legal issues related to women’s rights in America at the time of their filming. Each film that she analyzes has a connection to issues like Roe vs. Wade, the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA- which was fascinating to learn more about), and the various laws that eventually restricted physical and sexual violence against spouses. In the past, husbands were allowed to beat their wives and children, and rape by a husband was not recognized as a crime. Johnson provides the historical background of these legal and social developments to further her argument that these films either explicitly or implicitly addressed these various issues related to women’s rights. While I appreciated her analysis of the films, often taking a descriptive and analytical look at the film’s key action, I felt like I learned more from her ability to connect the historical context of the films to these social and legal issues. The latter half of each of these chapters on the films examined the historical context. For example, the first chapter focusing on Rosemary’s Baby identifies how the support for reproductive rights was shifting at that time, especially in New York, where newspapers like the New York Times ran articles that promoted the idea that women should have more “control over whether to carry a pregnancy to term.” Although Johnson indicates that this film helped to provide more of a discussion about reproductive rights and women’s choices in their health, she also noted that there was a growing sentiment about advocating for more choices for women that resulted from grassroots campaigns, protests, and support from medical organizations. What I found particularly interesting about this analysis was how Johnson shifts the focus from the kind of campy horror of Satanism to the coercive control that Guy and the Castavets exert on Rosemary. It’s been a while since I’ve seen this film, but I remember thinking that the film wasn’t that scary. However, in thinking about the drugging scene and the gaslighting that Rosemary experiences, as well as the restrictions from seeing her friends and her doctor, it becomes clear that this is a different kind of horror film—one that Johnson rightly categorizes as a kind of domestic horror, where wives are subject to the control of their husbands and they lose autonomy and decision-making about their bodies and health. It’s not something that the 12 year-old me would have thought too much about when I initially encountered this film, but Johnson’s analysis and historical research provides a compelling and timely reading of this film.

I also appreciated her reading of The Exorcist, one of my favorite films of all time. Johnson reads this film as a domestic abuse film, and although some recent books have elaborated on the physical abuse that stars Linda Blair and Ellen Burstyn experienced, I hadn’t thought about the abuse that both female characters experienced. Some analyses of the film explain that this is a film about changing norms in society, and Johnson examines that element of The Exorcist, but also notes that Chris and Regan are punished because Chris is an independent woman who challenges the traditional roles of mother and wife as a single working professional. I’ve always loved the Catholic angle of the film, and because I attended Catholic school, I always thought that exorcisms and demons were the fun part of the religion that was left out of our theology class. Regardless, I can see how Johnson’s analysis works in that The Exorcist is both a feminist film and an anti-feminist film since we witness the extreme abuse that Chris and Regan experience. As Johnson notes, it’s men and the traditions of the Catholic church, the same church that excludes women from leadership roles, that can only save Regan from the demons that torture her when medicine and psychiatry fail to find any kind of physical or mental issues with her. The battle of good and evil always resonated with me, and I always appreciated Father Karras’s conflicts, doubts and sacrifices. However, Johnson’s analysis is incredibly interesting in framing the film more about Chris’s punishment for defying traditional roles for women. Johnson’s analysis of Chris’s meeting with Father Karras, describing her dress and actions as that of an abused woman, helped to highlight the kind of domestic horror that she faced in this film. In a later chapter, Johnson calls out the director William Friedkin for the danger and pain he inflicted on the female stars of the films (along with calling out other directors like Roman Polanski and Stanley Kubrick). As Johnson notes, Burstyn experienced a severe back injury and the screams we hear on the film are real. Blair, who was 11 or 12 at the time of filming, also experienced lasting spinal injuries because of the harnesses used in the film. One other aspect of Friedkin’s production was his initial lack of acknowledgement of Merecedes McCambridge, who provided the voice of the demon Pazuzu, and Eileen Dietz, who served as Linda Blair’s stunt double for many of the scenes in the film. While I had read about the omission of McCambridge, Nat Segaloff’s great book The Exorcist Legacy provides some additional background about the lawsuit that McCambridge initiated that eventually led to her compensation and credit for the film. What was more surprising (and abusive) was that McCambridge was encouraged to chain smoke and consume raw eggs to achieve the demonic sounding voice that is so terrifying in the film. What I found even more troubling was that it seemed like Friedkin encouraged McCambridge, an alcoholic, to continue drinking to achieve the gravelly sounding voice despite achieving sobriety prior to the film. Similarly, Eileen Dietz was not initially credited with some of the stunts in the film. Mark Kermode in his BFI Film Classics book about The Exorcist notes that Friedkin wanted to make it seem like Blair was acting in every scene and also led to Dietz not being recognized as a credited performer in the film, although Friedkin and Warner Brothers seemingly minimized her contributions by measuring them to be under 30 seconds of film time. Regardless, I think these were other instances of Friedkin’s limitations of women’s contributions to his films.

I won’t get into too many of the other reviews, but I thought that the chapter on The Omen was fascinating in presenting the idea of benign patriarchy. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen The Omen, but I didn’t realize some of the elements of the story and how horrible Robert Thorn was to his wife. As Johnson notes, this film offers a “subtle but trenchant” examination of domestic horror. Likewise, her chapter on Alien and the reproductive violence in that film was interesting to take. I remember begging my parents to let me watch Alien when I was like 5 or 6, and it’s probably a good idea that I didn’t watch it then. I first watched Aliens, which is more of an action sci-fi movie with a strong female protagonist. Johnson notes how powerful Ripley is not only for her survival skills, but also her knowledge. She represents a change in female protagonists in the book. Nevertheless, Johnson identifies some of the ways in which embryos have more rights than hosts, and by impregnating men in the film, helps to show some of the horrors of forced births and reproductive control. I also appreciated her analysis of the ERA and how it connected to this film. It’s still somewhat surprising to learn that something like the ERA, which would codify women’s equal rights, is controversial and never was ratified despite initial indication that it was well supported. As Johnson explores, some of the concerns regarding women in combat may have contributed to limiting support for the amendment. Johnson contrasts these questions with the character of Ripley, noting how some battles are not always won with strength and might. I really appreciated this chapter, especially as I’m watching the new series Alien: Earth that deals with questions regarding technology, humanity, and corporate control. While not explicitly feminist, the show critique the kind of patriarchal control in tech, where a tech mogul’s designs on creating cyborg children may suggest that reproduction will become manufactured with little need for humans. If anything, the show has raised issues around body autonomy that Johnson identifies as a staple of these domestic horror films. I also really appreciated Johnson’s chapter on The Shining, another film I encountered probably too early in my horror watching, but have always loved for its eerie design and iconic shots. Rather than presenting the film as a supernatural story or psychic horror, Johnson examines The Shining from a domestic horror standpoint, examining the film primarily through Wendy’s experiences and terror. It’s through this analysis that we see how Jack displays typical abuser attributes and how his behaviors once in the Outlook Hotel further present him as an abusive husband who wants to torture and humiliate his wife and child. Furthermore, Jack’s encounter with Grady, the previous caretaker who also murdered his own family, presents the idea that this kind of family violence is systemic and something that is passed down. We also somewhat see this in King’s sequel to The Shining, Doctor Sleep, where a grown Dan Torrance comes to grips with his own addictions after confronting a neglected child. Although Johnson notes that Doctor Sleep, the book and the movie, don’t have the same level of domestic horror that The Shining exhibits, I think that Dan Torrance in Doctor Sleep has tried to escape his dad’s influence and break the cycle of abuse. Regardless, Johnson’s analysis of The Shining, noting the kind of abuse that Shelly Duval experienced at the hands of both Kubrick and critics, presents an important examination of the film and provides a new context for understanding how normalized violence towards spouses was at the time.

The last two chapters examine two different elements of domestic horror. One chapter, as I mentioned, is dedicated to recognizing that sometimes horrible people create great art. The other chapter notes some more recent horror films that take a feminist approach to domestic horror. I was so excited to read this chapter since it examines two more recent films that really intrigued me: The First Omen and Creep. I haven’t read too much about The First Omen, but I was blown away by this film. Johnson’s analysis helped me better understand the film, especially since I didn’t rewatch The Omen before watching this film. Johnson also analyzes Immaculate, another religious horror film about forced births in a post-Dobbs era. I was really surprised to find Creep in Chapter 7. I haven’t seen Creep 2, but after reading this book, it is on my “to watch” list. Johnson presents Creep as a kind of domestic horror by examining Aaron’s victimization by Josef. Johnson notes similarities between Creep and other films, but also acknowledges that had Aaron been a woman, we would react differently to the decisions to meet a stranger for money with a promise to film with discretion. Furthermore, the decision to show Aaron’s perspective on filming leads to a unique take on the experience as Josef gradually violates typical boundaries with his brazen and bizarre behavior. Creep definitely unsettled me, largely because of Duplass’s weird performance, but also because of Aaron’s continual acceptance of Josef’s grooming. Seeing this as the kind of domestic horror that Johnson examines was interesting and provided a new perspective on the film.

Scream With Me is an amazing book for any horror fan. I can see this book being used for a course on films or as a way to apply feminist theory to examine art, whether it’s film or more traditional texts like books. Johnson provides a way to examine horror films as a kind of mirror to society, to critique the lack of progress in women’s rights. This is not only a great read, but it is an important and timely book that I highly recommend. 

Making the College Essay Fun and Engaging: The Uncommon College Essay by Stacey Brook

 The Uncommon College Essay: An Approachable Guide to an Intimidating Process by Stacey Brook

The Uncommon College Essay book cover

Author and plant mom Stacey Brook

Many thanks to Bloomsbury Academic and NetGalley for allowing me to read an advanced copy of Stacey Brooke’s insightful The Uncommon College Essay: An Approachable Guide to an Intimidating Process. Brook, who runs an college essay advisory company (College Essay Advisors-CEA), has assembled a fun and useful book that prepares students to write one of the most consequential pieces of their academic careers- the college essay (or personal statement). Brook makes this task fun and uses encouragement to engage readers to think and question themselves in order to write and convey to admissions officers what makes them stand out among a broad array of candidates for college. This book comes out just in time as many students are either beginning their process of researching and assembling their college materials or finalizing their submission materials to prepare for their next step in their learning journeys.

I really appreciated Brook’s approach and her conversational style throughout the book. While the book provides helpful activities and exercises to engage in during the writing process, the book is not a task to read; furthermore, as an experienced writer and teacher who has supported students in writing their college essays, Brook provides many different ways to approach the tasks in the writing process. Ultimately, she identifies the stages of pre-writing/brainstorming, freewriting, organizing/drafting, and then revising. However, what makes her book stand out are the varieties of activities and approaches she has for each step. As if to silence the kinds of resistance and challenges that students might present, Brook provides many different ways to approach these tasks and to do so in a fun and personal way that makes the process of writing more about self-discovery and celebration than the slog or pressure filled task that it could seem like to many high school students. Brook’s frequent asides and parenthetical comments kept me laughing and appreciating her humorous approach to writing. Furthermore, they help to highlight how fun and personable this kind of writing can (and should) be. She regularly revisits interesting and unique facts about her life (ability to eat a whole pizza, plant mom) as an example of the kinds of unique aspects of one’s identity or experiences that might be further analyzed to explain more about their qualities. It was also interesting that she used these kinds of working examples from her own writing rather than student samples. She explains that the student samples can sometimes become like a template or map for students, who might end up copying the example, but failing to make the essay unique or personal. She does provide some student examples (with commentary) on introductions and conclusions which I found helpful and interesting. Nevertheless, I can appreciate this approach since sometimes students might approach the task as a writing assignment rather than a personal narrative or statement.

Brook’s book is a great guide for students, but it can also be a useful resource for teachers and parents. I know that when my kids are ready for any kind of personal narrative or personal statement type assignments, I’ll be able to reference some of the activities and approaches as well as utilize Brook’s motivational tools for overcoming writer’s block, procrastination, and the kind of general anxiety that might impact high stakes writing. Many of these suggestions are just best practices for writing, so it was helpful to revisit these since they can serve as some additional tips to present to students. I also wish that this was a book that was available when I was teaching high school English to many aspiring first generation college students. Brook’s tips and suggestions, as well as different exercises and activities to examine personal experiences were really helpful in exploring one’s personal identity and what makes them unique. I could see myself proposing choices for several different activities for some students who struggled with identifying those key experiences, qualities, or events that helped to define them, and further refining them to extract and communicate that meaning to admissions officers.

Stacey Brook’s The Uncommon College Essay is a great addition to the resources that are available for students, parents, and teachers in supporting their students to write their most impactful college essay or personal statement. Brook’s experience and knowledge with the tasks and requirements across different colleges helps prepare students to not only approach individual requirements, but to also then take their experiences and writing and revise or repeat the process for another institution that might have a different question or prompt. What I found most helpful was her humorous and conversational style in discussing this process as well as her tips for managing the varied constraints and stress that comes along with this process. Highly recommended! 

Exploring Horror Literature in Why I Love Horror

 Why I Love Horror: Essays on Horror Literature edited by Becky Siegel Spratford

Why I Love Horror book cover

Author, editor, librarian and reader advisor Becky Siegel Spratford

Big thanks to Saga Press and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of Beck Siegel Spratford’s amazing collection of horror writers’ essays on their love of horror appropriately titled Why I Love Horror: Essays on Horror Literature. This book was amazing! I loved hearing from so many incredible writers whose work I admire, have wanted to read, or just discovered because of this incredible anthology. First, this book is a must read for any horror fan—whether you are a horror literature fan or even a horror movie fan. Many of the entries from the authors provide background and motivation for why we are attracted to dark, forbidding stories that challenge and frighten us. I was nodding my head in agreement while reading many of the essays, finding commonality among the different perspectives that all pointed to outsider status, anxiety and fear, social ills, dysfunction, and especially in finding horror through early experiences with scary stories, comics, television shows, and films. While I try to find something that I can relate to in every book I read, I don’t know if I’ve ever encountered a book where I felt like I was saying “That’s me!” after every page.

Becky Siegel Spratford, the editor of this anthology, has done an incredible job of assembling an all-star cast of horror writers, but more importantly, she’s expertly arranged the essays into a compelling order that progresses from early encounters with monsters to real life terrors and horrors to acknowledging how horror can help us through horrible times. Siegel Spratford is a librarian by training who eventually started working with the Readers’ Advisory, a program that suggests books to readers. Maybe it’s something we take for granted when we go to the library, but I’ve always thought it was cool to see what the librarians were reading and recommending for readers. I usually don’t have a problem finding books I want to read, but it is a great service for my kids. Interestingly, Siegel Spratford recognized the importance of asking why—not just recounting what the book was about, but rather what made the book so enjoyable and readable. She gives a great example of how this question functioned for Stephen Graham Jones’s The Only Good Indians, probably my favorite book by him (although The Buffalo Hunter Hunter is a close second). She explains that exploring the why led her to create the Readers’ Advisory Guide to Horror, and her interest in horror led to asking writers to share entries for an October blog on “Why Horror?” She provided these authors with a simple prompt and word length, and then includes a great introduction and recommendations for these authors’ books—for which I am so grateful.

The book is easily read, and it’s one that I will definitely want to revisit. I also see some of these essays as being great teaching tools in asking students to think deeply about their own personal interests or “Why” questions. It’s an assignment I’ve taught before, trying to craft my own examples—why running? Why horror movies? Why metal? – as well as using student samples. However, I loved the variety and creativity in these essays. Grady Hendrix’s “Why I Love Horror” was so strange and unsettling about a discovery in his father’s freezer—I’m not sure how true it is, but that was the whole point of why horror. This sounds like something that could happen. Did it? That’s what makes horror so unsettling. I also loved Clay McLeod Chapman’s “Why I Am Horror” in which he recounts the varied examples from his younger days of why he drifted into horror, and how some experiences with horror challenged his perspective and understanding of the truth. I think that the earlier essays about monsters probably appealed to me the most. I was that kid who loved books about cryptids and creatures and watched shows like In Search Of… and Ripley’s Believe It Or Not. I had these Time Life books about all aspects of the unknown and mysterious events and creatures. It was funny that John Langan brought up spontaneous human combustion, because I remember being terrified of that phenomenon when I was younger after reading about it in one of these Time Life books. I think I even saw the pictures he referenced in his essay. I was just always drawn to both being scared but also intrigued by these mysterious circumstances. Also, monster movies were definitely a big part of my young life, something that I watched with my dad when I was really young, and continued to stay up late on Saturday nights after Saturday Night Live to watch Saturday Night Dead. Like a lot of the writers, these movies led to other worlds of horror including comics and Stephen King, Clive Barker, and Peter Straub. I’m also not sure if it was partly a generational aspect of growing up in the 80s, but I had a used book/comic store up the street from my house where I spent a lot of time and money discovering weird tales and Poe and Lovecraft comic adaptations. There were also 2 video stores nearby, and both had pretty good horror selections. Cynthia Pelayo, whose amazing book Loteria I recently read (and loved), talked about how the video store provided her with an early entry to horror, in which she ended up exploring the entire selection. Similarly, Clay McLeod Chapman talks about how “Each sleeve had its own horror story to tell.” I remember one summer trying to rent all of the banned films with a friend—Make Them Die Slowly, I Spit on Your Grave, Faces of Death…. Just trying to really push boundaries. However, there were all kinds of great covers and boxes that called out to perspective viewers to dare themselves to be scared for a few hours. I could totally relate to this, and it’s something that I feel like younger generations really missed out on. Even as an adult, I miss that time where I could just spend a summer day binging on different horror movies.

One of the more powerful essays was more like a story by David Demchuk. I was blown away by the story he recounts hearing from his uncle. It’s a powerful kind of allegory, but also illustrates the didactic power of horror and how its visceral nature allows us to feel a broad range of emotions. Similarly Stephen Graham Jones who ends the anthology, presents some humorous yet compelling reasons why he chose horror, noting how it might be the oldest of the genres. I also loved how many of the authors noted how important horror is for society—to serve as like a barometer and a kind of critique of society, where it can help us to recognize not only the horrors that are happening, but also what might come if we don’t make changes. Alma Katsu, who worked in intelligence tracking genocide and atrocities around the world acknowledges the power of horror and darkness to teach us important lessons. Other authors also offered the necessity of horror as a way to help us acknowledge and appreciate the light and good in the world. There were so many great ways to consider horror and what we can learn from it in this collection. I loved reading other pieces by authors whose books I’ve read within the last year or so—Gabino Iglesias, Tananarive Due, Alma Katsu, Clay McLeod Chapman, Victor LaValle, Nuzo Onoh, Grady Hendrix, Cynthia Pelayo, and Stephen Graham Jones, as well as encountering some writers on my TBR list (John Langan, Rachel Harrison, Mary SanGiovanni, David Demchuk). This was such a great collection! I also couldn’t imagine the contributions that some writers who either couldn’t contribute or had their work cut might have added. Siegel Spratford mentions a few in the “Acknowledgements”. I hope maybe she can create another edition later to include some of these writers. Nevertheless, this was such a fun, entertaining, and enlightening read. I loved reading about all of these authors’ experiences with horror- what influenced their movement to the dark side and what has kept them there. Highly recommended!

Corporations and Clans: Fiend by Alma Katsu

 Fiend by Alma Katsu

Fiend book cover

Author Alma Katsu

Many thanks to G.P. Putnam’s Sons, Penguin Random House, and NetGalley for allowing me to preview Alma Katsu’s excellent new book Fiend. I was really excited to see this book available since I have a few of Katsu’s books on my to be read shelf. This opportunity to preview the book would propel her book further up on my list and allow me to read one of modern horrors most popular writers. Although Fiend differs in setting from some of Katsu’s other books that often take a historical perspective on horror, this book set in the modern corporate world has plenty of intrigue, suspense, and a few brutal kills. What I enjoyed most about this book was the narrative propulsion, and how quickly the book moved. The chapters were brief, but full of character development or key action, and helped to move the story forward by creating these complex characters who were motivated not only by family and tradition, but also by power and their own desires. Katsu created some complex characters who I both felt sympathy for and questioned their motivations and behaviors. This kind of character development kept me reading to see what would happen next. Although Fiend is a horror book, it also reminded me a lot of the show Succession, where siblings vie for the affections and attention of the family’s patriarch, whose focus on family seems to blur with the family’s namesake company, Berisha International. Katsu has developed some amazing characters who are unique, and represent different ideals for the company: Dardan, the reluctant first born son, Maris, the bold middle daughter, and Nora, the neglected youngest, all have different ideas about the direction the company should pursue as their father, Zef, a hardnosed Albanian immigrant, continues to blend strategy with morally questionable methods. I loved how different chapters focused on different siblings, exploring their relationships both in contemporary times and occasionally alternating with experiences from the past. This kind of narrative structure with chapters labeled “Now” and “Then” was a great device that Katsu uses to give some backstory to the siblings’ complicated relationship with their father and better understand why Zef decided it was best to move out of the house, but still have dinner with the family on Sundays. Beyond Succession, the book’s narrative structure focusing on multiple complex characters and occasionally shifting between present and past reminded me of some Stephen King novels, where we see how past events and traumas can affect characters’ behaviors and how they treat one another in the present.

One of the other elements of this book that I loved is how Katsu blended a kind of folk horror/folklore and mythology with a modern corporate story. I don’t want to give anything away, but as Albanian immigrants, Zef and his wife Olga have decided to maintain some of the traditions and practices from the old country. This leads to some tension with their first generation children who were born in America, and struggle to understand some of the unreasonable expectations around marriage choices and lineage regarding the operation of the family’s company. Fiend features many plot twists and turns, revealing some unexpected events, yet Katsu provides a slow burn as the children’s memories of strange events from their childhood eventually lend credence to the forces that have made Zef such a feared and powerful CEO. This was a fun and exciting book to read, one that I highly recommend. It’s a propulsive read that kept me engaged, wanting to keep reading to find out what would happen next. It’s also a timely read that calls into question the nature of corporate behavior and ethics, making me wonder at which point do we question profits over people. While Katsu doesn’t propose any solutions or preach any answers, she does present an entertaining parable about the desire for power and the irony of enjoying leadership and responsibility. Highly recommended!

Hurry Up and Bring Your Jukebox Money- The B-52s' Cosmic Thing by Pete Crighton

 The B-52s' Cosmic Thing 33 1/3 Series 

by Pete Crighton

Cosmic Thing book cover

Author Pete Crighton

Big thanks to Bloomsbury Academic and NetGalley for allowing me to preview author Pete Crighton’s entry into the 33 1/3 series with his nostalgic and critical look at The B-52s’ Cosmic Thing, a classic album that produced several hits that cemented their status as an important band, not only to Crighton, but to Gen X. I enjoy most of the 33 1/3 books since there never usually formulaic, yet there’s always something to learn about the bands and the influence of these specific albums. While Crighton’s entry is more of a comprehensive focus on the band’s career, he frames this information as necessary in helping to understand the band’s evolution and their significance as one of the first queer bands who shared coded messages about acceptance and joy when the climate for people identifying as queer was not so welcome and open. I actually didn’t realize this about the B-52s, but it’s like looking back, I can see it now. I didn’t realize that this album came out in 1989; it feels almost like it’s timeless. In fact, I feel like “Loveshack” and “Roam” were always staples of my high school dances in the 90s or were always on MTV. I also remember “Rock Lobster” as being the highlight of middle school dances, arriving sometime after Modern English’s “Melt With You” and Rob Bass and DJ EZ Rock’s “It Takes Two”. There was just something about hearing that twangy, surf-rock rumble-like guitar notes moving up and down that signaled the opportunity to go wild. It was always matched by Kate Pierson and Cindy Wilson’s vocal imitations of the various sea creatures they might encounter in their pursuit of the rock lobster. Plus, Fred Schneider’s unique delivery that gradually builds to a kind of sustained Ahab like insanity always allowed a few of us weirdos to just let loose and abandon the timidity of early adolescence. As Crighton repeatedly notes, these were the calls from the B-52s to the other outcasts that there were others who loved sci-fi, UFOs, and b-movies, among other things that might not be popularly accepted when you’re trying to figure out your identity. Reading Crighton’s book took me back to those times when I first encountered the power of music to make you move and feel free. I appreciate all of the contextualization about the band’s beginnings, especially since I didn’t know a whole lot about their career. I feel like often times, the B-52s are underappreciated and under-documented as an integral left-of-the-dial band, so Crighton’s contribution is much appreciated.

The other interesting angle of Crighton’s book is that he frames the band in their queerness, sharing how their music both aligned with and offered some contrasts to the more ubiquitous gay sounds of disco. Within this framing, Crighton notes the hostility and fear that permeated society as HIV and AIDS emerged as a deadly disease in the early 80s. I actually didn’t realize that Ricky Wilson died of AIDS related complications, and according to Crighton, he only let one other band member know about his illness (but didn’t even tell his sister, Cindy, who was in the band). With the intense fear and misinformation about the disease, the band also did not publicize this. Nevertheless, the band persisted and took some time in between their last album that Ricky contributed (Bouncing Off the Satellites) and Cosmic Thing, which Crighton suggested allowed them to work more on their songs and have fun. It also helped that they worked with two excellent producers- Niles Rogers (of Chic fame) and Don Was. Crighton doesn’t really go into too much depth about the songs or the production of the album; however, he frames the songs, their lyrics and music in the queer context, allowing readers to see not only the band’s influence on him, but also the messages of love, acceptance, joy, and partying that they were sharing with the world. It’s interesting to think about how much the band was all about partying and having fun, but not in the like 80s rock band debauchery. Rather, I wonder how much they influenced Deee-lite, another MTV staple of the early 90s who were all about partying, clubbing, love, and acceptance.

I found Crighton’s writing to be enjoyable and funny at times. He offers personal connections to the B-52s’ music throughout his life, explaining how they helped him realize his queerness and come to an acceptance of his identity. His own experiences as a gay man coming of age in time of AIDS related fears shows how important a band like the B-52s was in providing a kind of guiding light or message of joy during these dark times. As a straight man, it’s not something I thought about, and it was important to hear that perspective and learn more about how much fear permeated life for people identifying as queer (and probably still does, for possibly different reasons). Although these weren’t the funny parts of the book, it does show Crighton’s intimacy and candor in his writing. His analysis of the song lyrics, as well as defining other gay-coded messages were funny. Nevertheless, the strength in his writing is his ability to identify and critique the anti-gay bias that was around in the 80s and 90s, referencing the comedians and jokes that were regularly accepted. He also referenced Three’s Company, a show I thought was hilarious when I was a kid, but didn’t really understand the complexities of a man pretending to be gay to live with two women. I appreciated his ability to call out some of the things that I laughed at as a kid, not really understanding who and how it hurt. This is a really fun and enlightening entry into the 33 1/3 series. Although it doesn’t specifically focus on Cosmic Thing for the entirety of the book, Crighton’s research, interviews, and analysis of the other albums helps to contextualize the band and their work in the emerging queer-related arts scene, showing how the band helped to open the door for other bands and acts, especially in a time where the mainstream music scene was rather bland and commercially driven, and the culture of fear and misinformation around queerness kept people who identify as queer at the margins or in the closet. If you’re looking for a book that details the equipment the band used, the type of recording technology they leveraged, or the time signatures of each of the songs, this probably isn’t the book for you. However, if your looking for a book about one person’s personal connection to music, and how the music of a band can serve as a kind of soundtrack for their coming of age, then this is a great book to check out. I highly recommend it, but I also tend to like these 33 1/3 books that are part memoir and share the nostalgic memories of music.

Excellent Horror Anthology Focusing on Family Fears

 Roots of My Fears: Terrifying Stories of Ancestral Horror edited by Gemma Amor

Roots of my Fears book cover

Many thanks to Titan Books and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of this excellent ancestral horror anthology Roots of My Fears: Terrifying Stories of Ancestral Horror. I was really excited to find this collection because it included stories by Erika Wurth, Ai Jiang, and Gabino Iglesias; writers whose books I’ve thoroughly enjoyed and appreciated their unique takes on horror. Furthermore, I was really excited to find stories by V. Castro and Adam Nevill, whose books I’ve had on my to be read list for some time. Gemma Amor, the editor of this collection, has compiled an interesting mix of stories, many of which are inventive and terrifying, in their own unique ways. As she defines the word “root” in the introduction, she elaborates on noting how it can take on different meanings, enabling her to remain connected, but also exploring how those attachments are not always healthy or helpful. “Horror is the perfect playground for such explorations: it is a genre highly bound in identity, in existential explorations, in matters of belonging, or of being alone.” These stories all focus on some kind of connection to family, whether it is healthy or harmful, but also on the identity, and how searching for one’s own identity, trying to discover who you are and break from these familiar constraints can also be a terrifying experience. This is a great collection of stories, and while they are not all excellent, I felt that most of the stories were truly inventive, surprising, and scary. Furthermore, I wasn’t expecting so many references to cosmic horror and Lovecraft, but I felt like many of the stories had some kind of connection to the old ones, tentacled creatures, or ancient traditions that seemed to pass down in ways that superseded blood. If weird, cosmic, or folk horror grab your attention, then this is a collection for you. I also appreciated the diversity of this collection and how it explored cultures, traditions, and superstitions from  Nigerian, Caribbean, Puerto Rican, Mexican, Chinese and Pakistani perspectives. These were some of the more creative and interesting stories. I’ll briefly outline these stories and share what I liked about each one.

“Lamb had a Little Mary” by Elena Sichrovsky was a strange story that involved body horror and childbearing. It’s a play on the nursey rhyme, but imagining the kind of dependent relationship between Mary and her lamb as if it were in a medieval forest during a famine and plague. It’s truly disturbing, and a great way to start off this anthology by shocking readers. It’s definitely a story I will also need to revisit to further analyze its meaning.

I loved “The House that Gabriel Built” by Nuzo Onoh. It was another strange story about familiar revenge and power, imagining how a young boy whose uncles murdered his father would do anything to get revenge and retain his inheritance. The story also features some truly shocking instances of revenge, but there’s also a message about the power that this kinds of patrilineal societies wield and how it impacts women. It was interesting to read this story about Nigerian traditions because I could see a lot of connection to blues music and traditions. In particular, the idea of the seventh son serves as a kind of talisman- a blessed child whose often the hoochie-koochie man, endowed with special abilities.

It's hard to choose a favorite from this collection, but Ramsey Campbell’s “The Faces at Pine Dunes” was a strong contender from this collection. It is one of the longer selections, but it is so atmospheric and creepy. This is the story that is probably the most “Lovecraftian” as well. It’s a story about a boy who camps around England with his parents, but eventually seeks to get away from them, obtaining a job in town as a bartender. After meeting a girl in the bar, he realizes how different his experiences have been, and he desires something new, but also begins to question his parents and their actions. As one of the longer stories, the woods where his family camps takes on its own kind of character within the story and had enough creepy and eerie qualities to keep me reading until I finished. I was surprised to learn that this story is also older, but it makes sense since the teens in the story don’t have social media or phones, and there’s a kind of 1970s counterculture vibe throughout the story. I’ve heard of Campbell before, but never read anything by him, and with “The Faces at Pine Dunes”, I can understand how he is considered a master of horror.

“In Silence, In Dying, In Dark” by Caleb Weinhardt is a shorter story that details mystery letters the narrator receives from their old life. It’s a quick read, and has a tough act to follow in Campbell’s piece.

“One of Those Girls” by Premee Mohamed is a great story about Benny, a first generation college student whose immigrant parents would not approve of her unplanned pregnancy. She solicits help from a friend, but some strange events occur that prevent her from finding answers and confronting man who fathered her child. At the same time, she begins to see a ghostly woman in white. This story has some great and unexpected twists, and Mohamed uses some clever events in the story to engage the reader and propel the action forward.

I was really excited to read Gabino Iglesias’s “Juracan” since I haven’t read any of his stories, but I absolutely loved the novels The House of Bone and Rain and The Devil Takes You Home. This story was interesting, and it seemed like it was connected to The House of Bone and Rain. Both feature a deadly hurricane and describe the kinds of strange and potentially supernatural events that happen during these hurricanes. Both described babies being born during a hurricane that have 7 rows of teeth, and both feature supernatural characters who emerge during these times of intense weather. I wondered if maybe this was another direction that Iglesias was taking with his book, but abandoned it. Although I liked this short story, I wished it was longer.

“The Saint in the Mountain” by Nadia El-Fassi was also a terrifying story of young womanhood, and how societies seek to control women’s bodies. There’s lots of strange events and foreboding in the story, and I really enjoyed those moments leading up to a surprise ending.

“Crepuscular” by Hailey Piper was also a terrifying story about having children, especially those with unique needs. This was also one of those Lovecraftian stories that also incorporated elements of The Exorcist. As a parent, this story spoke to me about the lengths people will go to and the kinds of wild advice they might seek out to try to “solve” their kids. It was a gruesome but compelling read.

“Laal Andhi” by Usman T. Malik was another interesting story that takes place in Pakistan, and jumps from 2008, when the narrator was a man in his 30s to his boyhood in the 80s. A surprising figure suddenly appears as he is driving, and this shock enables him to reminisce. There’s some really weird stuff (think of Takashi Miike’s Audition) that the narrator and his friends encounter in a haunted house in the neighborhood, and this will eventually change all of their lives. This story is not only an interesting take on the haunted house story, but it’s also a story of young friendship and adventure.

Erika T. Wurth’s “The Woods” is a strange, but compelling story about family, love, and a mysterious hotel made from trees. As I was reading, I kept thinking about Wurth’s novel White Horse, which takes place partly in the Overlook hotel, made famous by The Shining. There are some elements of weird hotels in this story. I loved how the setting in a tree hotel with roots throughout transported the narrator back to her family and roots. The incorporation of folktales and family stories passed down also created a kind of weird atmosphere where the narrator felt both unsettled, but strangely comfortable. It’s another moody and eerie story full of uncanny experiences.

Ai Jiang’s “Unsewn” was a heartbreaking story about the pressure of valuing male children over female children in China (although the story could have taken place elsewhere). The story didn’t seem like traditional horror until the ending, which is both heartbreaking and horrifying. However, looking back, I can see how expectations and familiar duties, especially around childrearing and lineage, things often out of our control, can be terrifying experiences in themselves. Jiang’s story takes place in a society rampant with inequality and division, and it helps to contextualize the main character’s actions.

Adam Nevill’s “To Forget and Be Forgotten” was another favorite. It was such a strange and unexpected story with hints of Rosemary’s Baby and other Lovecraftian elements. The story involves a man who is hired as a night porter in an apartment building where none of the residents are under 90. He observes their strange behavior and only interacts with their equally odd caregivers. One night, one of the caregivers asks the narrator to watch her client, and the story just gets stranger from there. The story has a great ending and some amazing reveals. I would love to see this as a short film--- I think it would be a little too long for a 30 minute show, but it might work better in the 40-60 minute range. It also plays on our fears of aging.

V. Castro’s “The Veteran” was a story that started rather bleak, but ended up being redemptive. I also appreciated the twists she developed for this kind of pandemic/survival story. I usually don’t like these kinds of stories or movies, but this one was cool, and also has some Lovecraftian elements to it. The story also had some Stephen King traces in it—children in danger from some kind of mysterious, older evil, while a down-on-his luck loner finds his place with a curandera and a kid. It’s an economical, but powerful story, and I’m looking forward to reading more of Castro’s works.

“Chalk Bones” by Sarah Deacon was an interesting story that verged on a kind of folk horror, but also had some Lovecraftian elements in it. The narrator is moving from her family’s home to her grandfather’s farm. They are displaced by the construction of a bypass. While the narrator, a young girl, moves, she begins to feel stronger connections with the land, feeling and hearing things that others seemingly cannot. It’s another inventive play on the kinds of roots and connections we have with not only family, but the land, and how those experiences and knowledge can get in our bones.

Overall, this was a great anthology, with some really great stories in them. While not stories I would necessarily include for the classroom, I would recommend them to friends. There’s a great variety of stories that appeal to all different types of horror fans. A great collection that I will definitely recommend and revisit.

 

Exploring the Halloween Franchise- You Can't Kill the Boogeyman: The Ongoing Halloween Saga

 You Can't Kill the Boogeyman: The Ongoing Halloween Saga -13 Movies and Counting by Wayne Byrne

You Can't Kill the Boogeyman book cover

Author Wayne Byrne

Huge thanks to Bloomsbury Academic and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of Wayne Byrne’s excellent and entertaining new book You Can’t Kill The Boogeyman: The Ongoing Halloween Saga – 13 Movies and Counting. I was so excited to find this book on one of my favorite horror franchises- Halloween, and Bynre’s detailed examination and analysis into the making of these films, especially those from the late 80s and 90s provides new insight and understanding about the changing storylines and directions that this franchise has experienced over nearly 50 years of terror. I can understand how some people might not appreciate this book since Byrne states from the beginning that “This is not a definitive history of the Halloween franchise. This is a critical and cultural celebration of the artists involved…” As he notes, many of the major figures in the franchise like Carpenter and Jamie Lee Curtis have contributed to other studies of the films, so if anything Byrne presents a fresh view of the films. However, his focus on some of the films that are more divisive in the franchise (Halloween III, 4, 5, and 6) help to provide new insight and understanding about the change in direction that these films ushered in, and how studios and the shift in horror that Scream ushered in during the late 90’s resulted in a return to Lori Strode storyline with H20 and Halloween: Resurrection. I found this book to be fascinating and helped me appreciate the distinctions between each of the films in the series, even if I’m not a huge fan of some of the later versions. Nevertheless, as a horror movie fan and someone whose first R rated film in the theater was Halloween 4, this book appealed to not only my fandom about the series, but also my interest in how films are made. This is a wonderful book, and I loved how Byrne’s approach to examining the films in chunks allows readers and fans to, hopefully, develop a further appreciation for these films and understand the various factors that influenced the storylines and changes to the series that have happened. Chapter 1 focuses on Halloween I and II, and the focus is on much of the production of the film, especially around the cinematography, the design of the town and homes, and the challenges with transforming Southern California into midwestern Haddonfield. It was really cool to learn more about this aspect of the film, especially how they designed the iconic opening scene, viewing the murder through Michael Myers’s eyes. In fact, many of the chapters feature interviews with the cinematographers and directors of photography on the film to better understand how the camera angles, lighting, staging, and editing all contributed to different tones and moods for these films. I also liked learning more about Halloween II since this film primarily takes place in the hospital and creates a sense of dread of foreboding while containing the action in this central (and scary) location. This part of the book also brings in Alan Howarth, a musician who ended up composing the music for many of the Halloween sequels but still working with Carpenter’s iconic score. I loved reading about Howarth’s background and interest in synthesizers as well as his ability to maintain the core components of the score, yet also to elaborate on the score and add his own flourishes and tones to make the scores fit with the tone of each film. While some may question the focus on the cinematography and the music in this book, I found it helped me better understand the unique directions and emotions that each film portrays, and how those involved in the different films tried to not only maintain the key elements of the franchise yet also contribute their own unique take on the films. It’s something that I hadn’t quite considered as an early adolescent horror fan, but now looking back, I can appreciate even more as this horror franchise sought to challenge the studio system and maintain its 1970s independent film roots.

Chapter 2 focuses on Halloween III, which is one of the more divisive films in the series, mostly because it does not feature Michael Myers. The video boxes for the Halloween films always stood out—not only because there were 3 really cool covers featuring evil looking pumpkins, but I also thought that III’s stretched out silhouettes of trick-or-treaters with the demon face in the sky was so cool looking. It not only had a cool design and color scheme, but it also was relevant to me- coming out when I was probably 6 years old. It always made the Halloween holiday look much more terrifying and scary. I also remember watching it on TV when I was younger and really enjoying so much about this film—especially the Silver Shamrock song. I encountered this film before I really knew what sequels and series were, so to me, this was always an interesting and scary movie since the villains target children and their interest in Halloween masks. I later learned that the focus of the film was aligned with Carpenter and Debra Hill’s intention to make Halloween an anthology series, which I also thought was really cool. I loved Tales from the Darkside and Tales from the Crypt, and so I could imagine that an anthology film series focused on frightening stories related to Halloween would have been awesome. It’s a shame that audiences didn’t appreciate the film in this regard, but I can understand how jarring this film would have been with a title in the series. Regardless, Byrne’s chapter interviews Tommy Lee Wallace, who worked on the first film and directed this one. He provides a lot of insight into the production of the film, including the excellent choice of Tom Atkins as Dr. Dan Challis, the leading character who plays against types. While I’m not sure I completely agree with Byrne that the film is one of the best horror films of the 80s, but I do agree that it is dramatically underrated. Furthermore, Byrne’s analysis of the film presenting  it as a “façade of middle-class conformity mask[ing] a malevolent conspiracy” helps to frame the film within the context of the Halloween franchise and other 1970s and 80s horror films that chronicle social changes and anxiety. Chapter 3 was probably my favorite chapters, and it was one of the longer chapters in the book. It details the productions of Halloween 4 and 5, and how these films were meant to resuscitate the series. Halloween 4 was the first R-rated film I saw in a theater, and it was also probably the first horror movie I saw in the theater. I remember begging my dad to take me, and the experience still stands out. I always thought 4 was a good entry, and recognized that it was more of a thriller-action film than a horror film. I also remember the film being really dark since it takes place primarily at night. Reading the interviews with the director and cinematographer brought a new level of appreciation for the film, and also some understanding of the direction that the film was taking. I also loved that Tony Timpone from Fangoria was featured in a lot of these chapters, since I was also an avid reader of that magazine at the time, and his input provided more ideas about the direction of the films and the focus on the story. Although I loved reading about 4, the focus on Halloween 5 was even more entertaining, specifically the interviews with director Dominique Othenin-Girard and cinematographer Rob Draper that were fascinating insights into how this film franchise swerved in direction. Othenin-Girard is a fascinating and at times humorous interview subject, and he provides some great entertainment, but also some interesting perspective about how his ideas for the film went in a much different direction than many of the other films. Reading these chapters has made me want to revisit these two films in the series as well.

Chapter 4 was also fascinating in examining The Curse of Michael Myers, which has a pretty low rating, but has an interesting story about the direction the series was heading. It was also interesting to learn that the screenplay was written by a 19-year old fan of the franchise, Daniel Farrands, and was also the first of the series that Miramax produced, although this studio’s emerging power seemed to interfere with many aspects of the film’s production, including the score, the editing, and the story. This chapters is also interesting to learn more about what the goals were for the film series that were eventually abandoned with the subsequent films. Chapter 5 examines H20 and Halloween: Resurrection, which shifted the focus back to Laurie Strode and also seemingly sought to appeal to more recent trends in horror films that were likely the result of Scream. I also saw H20 in the theaters, and remember being excited for the return of Michael Myers and Laurie Strode. Although I haven’t seen Resurrection, I appreciated Byrne’s idea that this film was one of the early entries into the found footage films that started with The Blair Witch Project and The Last Broadcast. It’s interesting to think about how these films were both influenced by other horror tropes of the time, and potentially also influenced other films later. The last two chapters focused on the Rob Zombie Halloween films and the David Gordon Green Halloween films. I’ve seen both sets of these films in the theater, so again, it was interesting to learn more about how these films came about, what influenced them outside of Halloween, and what the directors and cinematographers were looking to capture mood and tone-wise for these films. I didn’t really enjoy the Rob Zombie versions, and in general, I’m not big into his films. However, I enjoyed reading more about the challenges he faced and how he intended to re-envision the Michael Myers story and character as someone who was influenced by his environment than his nature. I also enjoyed reading the cinematographer’s experience and career, which didn’t necessarily seem to come from the horror genre. The David Gordon Green chapter was also interesting to learn more about how the legacy influenced these versions, and also how Blumhouse Productions has been reinterpreting other horror film intellectual property for some time. Both of these chapters were shorter than some of the others and didn’t have the same level of detail and interviews that were in some of the other chapters focusing on the earlier films in the franchise. Nevertheless, these chapters offered some interesting perspectives about the films, especially how these films fit into more recent horror trends and reflect changes in society. Again, it’s interesting to learn about how the writers and producers have been able to reimagine the storyline and create different narratives reflecting elements of Laurie and Michael’s relationship.

I highly recommend this book for many different reasons, but especially if you are a fan of horror films and the Halloween films. Even if you feel strongly that some of the films are problematic, reading this book might provide you with new insights and information about the intention of the directors, cinematographers, composers, and others involved in the creation of these films. Byrne’s research, interviews, and analysis helped to recontextualize many of these films and made me want to revisit many of the films in the franchise. In addition, the book is just fun to read. There are many great pictures and images from posters and production stills; plus, the interviews with those involved in the production are really enlightening and entertaining. This is a wonderful book serving more as a treat than a trick. Highly recommended!

Irish Legends for Kids

 Irish Legends for Kids: Heroes, Druids, Myths, Magic, & More from Ancient Ireland

Irish Legends for Kids book cover

Many thanks to History Brought Alive and Book Sirens for providing me with an advanced copy of Irish Legends for Kids: Heroes, Druids, Myths, Magic, & More from Ancient Ireland. I was very excited to see this book available for review since I’ve traveled to Ireland and have family there. I’m also interested in Irish mythology and culture, so I was curious to see what this book has to offer. The book has 21 short chapters that provide the background and meanings for various heroes and heroines from Irish mythology and legends, as well as examining some places like the Giant’s Causeway and Tir Na Nóg, the otherworld, and animals like the Glas Gaibhnenn, a sacred cow that provides abundance for the people of Ireland. The chapters are not incredibly detailed, which is probably good for younger readers. However, I felt like some of the chapters offered limited details to the stories, and others that focused on legends like the Banshee presented a story about a farmer named Eamon and his grandmother that I never heard of. When I tried to look up this story, I couldn’t find any information about it. The story presents a kind of sanitized, less terrifying version of the Banshee character, where the cry of the Banshee serves as a reminder to Eamon to value the time he spends with his grandmother before she dies. The events of the story are reinforced by the lessons presented at the end of the chapter. While I can see how this is a good way to introduce the concept of inevitability and acceptance of death, I’ve never heard of the Banshee legend framed in this way. Furthermore, Banshees tend to appear as a woman with long, streaming hair and is frequently a harbinger of death. In the stories that I’ve read, Banshees often force individuals to change their ways or try to escape death but inevitably succumb to the cry of the Banshee as a result of their moves to evade the inevitable. Again, maybe this kinder version was a way to make the legend less scary to younger readers, but I always thought that the ghostly image of the screaming Banshee was really intriguing. Other chapters like the one about the Druids really offered nothing meaningful, and I wondered why it was even included. The Druids were real people who lived in Ireland, England, and other areas prior to the Roman invasion. They were priests and intellectuals whose mounds and stone structures throughout Ireland and England have left nearly as many questions as answers as to who these people were and how they lived. The chapter tells about a chief druid named Cathbad yet it doesn’t really discuss much about the lives of druids, where they lived, or even what legacy they have left in Ireland. In addition, there is a chapter that discusses the possible Celtic influences on the Holy Grail story, but this also feels out of place since the connections are not well developed and seem superficial. There are many other possible influences on the Holy Grail story, and it seemed strange to focus on a Welsh legend with influences that also include Christianity.

This book has some good moments, but it is also somewhat formulaic. The chapters present the story, and then each story has a “lesson” to be learned from the events. I found that many of the lessons were similar and focused on generic ideas about bravery and courage, helping and sharing, and acceptance and love. Furthermore, these lessons didn’t include many specific details and seemed like they could refer to almost any story, myth or legend. At first, I thought that this would be a good resource for younger readers, but as I read through the 21 chapters, I found the lessons to be repetitive and banal. I wonder if using questions or prompts to encourage readers to think about what the stories mean to them might be a more engaging way to encourage critical thinking and analysis of these stories. For example, instead of presenting the meaning, the writers could ask something like “The legend of St. Patrick presents a story about hardships and challenges. What do you think St. Patrick learned from his experiences?” or “Deirdre of the Sorrows tells a story about love and loss. What lessons might Deirdre and Naoise have learned from their experiences? What kind of leader do you think King Conchobar was based on his behaviors?” I felt like I was reading the same message, and even disagreeing with some of the conclusions that the authors of this book reached about these stories that dealt with death, treachery, and betrayal.

Although there were some important stories and characters from Irish mythology, the overviews were often generic. Furthermore, the book did not always include pronunciations of characters’ names. Celtic Gaelic has a different pronunciation from English, and some of the names did not include pronunciations (Naoise, Lebeorcham, Glas Gaibhnenn, Tobar Segais, Sionann). I wasn’t sure why some of the names earlier in the book included pronunciations, which I found helpful, but names in the later chapters did not. There were some names that are still around today (Patrick, Brigid, Deirdre), but many of these names are not as common in English, so including a pronunciation key would have been helpful. In addition, I think this book could have been enhanced with images, especially for the legendary creatures like the Selkie, the Harp of Dagda, and Giant’s Causeway. Seeing the Giant’s Causeway would help to understand the unique shape of the rocks to better understand how much they are like stepping stones. Furthermore, presenting images of the Harp of Dagda, which as the authors note is the only musical instrument that serves as a country’s national symbol, would also help readers better understand the image’s significance and beauty. I also would have liked to see some comparative pictures of Samhain, the ancient Celtic festival that has evolved into Halloween. I also think that providing some images for readers to compare and contrast the similarities and differences would help readers better understand how Halloween has evolved from this Celtic tradition.

Overall, this was a book that has some interesting moments, but I kept wondering whether I would have been better off just reading Wikipedia. The writing is generic and bland, and while it may be suited to a younger audience, it still felt like it lacked any real connection with readers. The book was also incredibly repetitive, with each chapter forcing a kind of lesson learned, but often failing to include specific details or missing the mark on some important lessons. Many of the lessons were the same. Without any human author attributed to the book, I wondered whether this book was a produce of artificial intelligence. The repetitive structure and lack of specific details, as well as the kind of rote, banal tone of the book made me think that the references included at the end of the book were fed into an AI prompt and produced this output. While there are some overviews of Irish myths and legends, there are many other good resources available at libraries and online. 

Shuffling the Deck of Lotería, Stories by Cynthia Pelayo

Lotería: Stories by Cynthia Pelayo

Lotería book cover

Author Cynthia Pelayo

Many thanks to Union Square & Co. and NetGalley for the advanced copy of Cynthia Pelayo’s exciting and creepy collection of stories Lotería, featuring 54 stories all based on the Mexican game of chance. After reading a review about this book some time ago, I’ve been wanting to read it, and was very excited to find a digital copy available for preview. I also loved reading these stories, many of which are based on folklore, myths, and superstitions from different cultures and people of Latin American countries. I initially just assumed that it would be based on Mexican American culture, but I was really excited to find stories that took place in Puerto Rico, Peru, Columbia, Argentina, and Spain, among other countries. Furthermore, it was cool to encounter retellings or reimagined stories that featured familiar myths and folklore from Latin American culture like the Chupacabra and La Llorona. Pelayo’s inventive short stories present characters who find themselves in strange and sometimes unfortunate situations where they encounter these mythological figures in more modern settings. I enjoyed Pelayo’s ability to also incorporate modern situations and issues in some of the stories (“La Sirena” for example, a brief and terrifying story about human trafficking).

Each story is based on one of the Lotería cards and features an image from the card. Although the connections are often clear, some are not as clear initially, yet reading through the story and especially the final chapter helps to better understand the connection between the story and the image. My personal favorites in this collection were the stories that dealt with folklore and mythological figures. I was looking up some of the instances of Aztec language (Nahuatl) and culture, as the book has many references. There’s also a story about the pirates of Puerto Rico where the narrator has a spiritual encounter in El Moro, which I visited a little more than a year ago. I’ve been to that fort three times and was able to take my kids to visit this last time. It’s a fascinating place, and Pelayo’s story added another interesting way to interpret not only the history, but also the people who populated El Moro and Viejo San Juan. There were also some uncanny and eerie type stories featuring dolls, possessed children, and demons that randomly show up with strange messages. Additionally, a story about a bookseller who loses a cursed tome to a thief has a kind of karmic tone found in famous stories like “The Monkey’s Paw” and episodes of The Twilight Zone. Although not all the pieces are of the same quality, there are enough weird, creepy, and terrifying stories that kept me reading throughout the night. The collection reminded me a lot of King’s Night Shift, where characters often meet horror in unexpected and surprising places, and others are sometimes confronted with loss, pain, and sadness, sometimes as a result of their own actions. This is a great collection of stories, and I was so impressed with Pelayo’s ability to use the Lotería cards to craft these unique, creepy, and often terrifying stories. Even individual stories would work in an anthology or teaching literary and narrative devices in a thematic unit. I could see some of these stories as the kind that would capture the attention of reluctant readers and hidden horror fans. I highly recommend this collection, whether reading individual stories or checking out the entire collection. I’m also looking forward to reading more of Pelayo’s books. 

The Role of Manipulation in our Lives

 Manipulation: What It Is, Why It's Bad, What To Do About It by Cass R. Sunstein

Manipulation book cover

Author and scholar Cass R. Sunstein

Many thanks to Cambridge University Press and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of esteemed Harvard scholar and writer Cass R. Sunstein’s new and timely book Manipulation: What It Is, Why It’s Bad, What To Do About It. Sunstein, who has worked examined legal and behavioral issues in other books, examines all of the ways that we encounter manipulation in our daily lives. I found the book to be fascinating since manipulative means often attract our emotions, or our system 1 level of responding, which don’t allow much time for reflection or consideration about the implications or ramifications of any responses. According to Sunstein, this is the primary goal of manipulators and why manipulation is problematic in most cases. According to Sunstein, manipulation does not consider our agency or reflective ability. It merely assumes that we are likely to emotionally respond without any thought or consideration to consequences. Furthermore, many manipulators use deceitful or bad faith tactics that also trigger our System 1 responses, and don’t allow for much research or further learning about the topic. As a result, manipulators tend to have a dim view of those they seek to manipulate, assuming they will not seek out additional information or challenge their claims. Sunstein uses many examples in various fields including work, advertising, technology, and politics, among others. I found these examples to be revealing and compelling.

I appreciated Sunstein’s approach to this topic. It’s one that he’s spent time before working on, specifically with nudging and behavior, a topic he co-authored a book with Nobel winning economist Richard Thaler, and decision making and judgement, another topic he co-authored a book with another Nobel laureate, Daniel Kahneman. Sunstein brings a wealth of knowledge and experience with this topic, and aptly defines manipulation not only with examples and subtypes, but also by differentiating the topic from other forms of deceptive practice including lying and coercion. With coercion specifically, Sunstein argues that coercion is often thought of as more forceful than manipulation, but actually people have a choice with coercion. There is often a consequence to follow, and the severity of the consequence often informs people’s decisions to comply with the coercion. This is not the same case with manipulation, which seeks to appeal more to our emotions, or system 1 responses, rendering us unlikely to question or challenge the information. Thus, with manipulation, the approach is to remove choice and thinking, taking away our agency and dignity, and subjecting us to the desires of the manipulator. Nevertheless, Sunstein presents the challenges to regulating manipulation since it is a form of speech and outlawing it would, in turn, become not only difficult, but would also take away other freedoms of expression.

One of the points I found most fascinating was how often we encounter manipulation, but with a more positive, or as Sunstein mentions, a welfarist approach. Although Sunstein spends time exploring the ways that various approaches to manipulation occur and drain time and money from us, he also notes that frequently governments and public health campaigns apply manipulative methods to promote positive health or at least deter behaviors that are unhealthy. While advertising companies in the past have used manipulation to promote cigarettes and alcohol, often showing happy, healthy, and young people enjoying themselves, more recent attempts to deter smoking and excessive drinking have aimed to use manipulative practices to deter smoking. The examples of anti-smoking campaigns are particularly graphic but use manipulation for a good. Sunstein explains why these examples would make outlawing manipulation problematic.  The other interesting aspect of manipulation is the different types of manipulation, and how technology is factoring into making manipulation much easier today. One form of manipulation that Sunstein discusses is sludge, which is basically like onerous bureaucratic impediments that are a means to slow people down to limit them from accessing any resources. While reading this, I thought about the show Nathan For You, and one episode where Nathan develops a rebate plan to boost a gas station’s business. He makes the process of obtaining the rebate so difficult and time consuming that most of the applicants drop out. Nathan applies an approach that Sunstein explores as manipulative that many other businesses, organizations, and governments employ to deter access to resources and goods.  

 

Sunstein notes that FAFSA, the federal student aid program’s application was often viewed as a type of sludge, making it difficult for students to access aid, assuming that many would give up. Sunstein documents other examples of sludge in the world, and how it impacts our lives. Other examples are about ending free trials, and how challenging it can be to sometimes escape any kind of free trial without taking an incredible amount of time and effort. He cites examples of Serious XM radio, and how cancelling a subscription often involves talking to a live human, which can involve waiting for a lengthy time on the phone. I didn’t realize that the Biden administration actually enacted legislation to counter these kinds of practices, recognizing that sludge costs people time and money, and as a result, people need easier methods to cancel subscriptions and not be the targets of deceptive manipulation.

The most compelling cases, on the other hand, dealt with technology and how technology enables manipulators to employ new and more dangerous forms of manipulation. He cites examples of egregious  manipulation like the Trump campaign’s reelection scheme to opt donors into recurring payments, assuming that they would not read the fine print or check their accounts to see the money they lost. Maybe it’s not surprising, but it demonstrates how Sunstein’s idea that manipulators devalue their targets and don’t consider their agency and dignity. Sunstein also touches on deep fakes and how these forms of manipulated video (and audio) can be so compelling that they don’t allow us to access our System 2 processing, where we consider and reflect on the information we are taking in. This is especially important as younger children are encountering more and more video media, and are not always taught to question or consider what they encounter online. Furthermore, with the current administration employing these kinds of manipulative practices, it’s more important that people are made aware of them and develop tools and practices to counter and question the information that’s being spewed on a regular basis. Sunstein ends the book by examining AI, and noting how AI can be used for both manipulative practices, but also as a tool to learn more about options and choice engines. I’m glad to see that he doesn’t completely dismiss AI as manipulative, but recognizes that any kind of algorithm may have the potential to produce biased results that might target our system 1 responses. Nevertheless, he also notes that AI has the potential to quickly scan through information that would take most humans hours and hours, enabling them to save more time and focus to make better informed decisions, ultimately to prevent manipulation.

Although the book is important and fascinating, it is a little challenging to read, and I know that I will need to revisit the topics. Manipulation has ideas and examples that affect our lives in different respects from advertising and large purchases, to retirement planning and government policies. Although the book may not be for everyone, Sunstein present clear and relevant examples that highlight the various ways that manipulation is used to impact behavior. While not always bad, manipulation does entail practices that seek to bypass rational decision-making and have us react. Although this is sometimes necessary in promoting public health, we can also see how it is used for other ends. Thus, this is an important read with significant implications. This book has made me more conscious of the information and media I encounter, and how I can carefully consider it before responding or reacting.